A Few Grey Hairs
by mattsloved1
Summary: Sherlock has locked himself in the bathroom and John tries to figure out what is going on. Absolute silliness.


**All right. This piece is complete silliness. MLC needed distracting last night so I emailed her a piece progressively. This is what happened. **

**Much thanks to Johnsarmylady for looking this over for me. You are lovely! **

**I don't own them so I can't profit from them. **

* * *

"Sherlock! Come out of the bathroom this minute!"

Through the door, John could hear a muffled but belligerent, "No!"

"I mean it! If you don't come out through this door before I count to thirty, I will be coming through this door and you aren't going to like it!"

Mulish silence was the answer the doctor received. Deciding a different tactic might work better, wanting to save his shoulder and the door the pain slamming against it would cause, John sighed before he softened his voice.

"Sherlock, you've been in there for nearly an hour. You said you aren't sick but won't tell me why you've locked yourself in there. Please talk to me."

There was no verbal answer but the sound of footsteps could be heard before the lock unlatched. Soon the door knob turned and John was able to make his way into the room.

Sherlock had moved back until he was sitting on the toilet seat. The detective's expression was a gloomy one but John wasn't immediately alarmed since the same look had been sent his way two days earlier when they had run out of Sherlock's favourite blackberry jam.

"Okay, what's wrong?" he asked, as he leaned against a wall.

Sherlock shook his head mournfully as he opened his mouth to answer.

"I found two of them, John"

John's breath caught in his throat as thoughts of what terrible possibilities might have been found raced through the medical knowledge he kept filed away in his mind.

"What did you find?" his voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if his body couldn't find the strength to speak any louder.

Sherlock's eyes rose until they were connected with his partner's. Groaning, he pushed his fingers into his curls and placed his elbows on his knees. Doing so sent his words towards the floor.

John had leaned forward enough that he caught the words as they drifted through the air.

"Excuse me?"

Sherlock's head snapped up and annoyance marred his ethereal face. "You heard me the first time. I fail to see what benefit could come from my repeating myself!"

John tried, he really did, but he soon found himself seated on the floor overtaken by a case of the giggles.

Frustration nearly caused Sherlock to storm out of the room but he was also concerned that the time the good doctor had spent in his presence might have finally caused a breakdown of some sort.

Once John was able to speak without gasping for breath he placed one hand on Sherlock's knee. Using one hand to wipe away the tears still trailing down his cheeks, he absently patted expensive fabric.

"I'm sorry to laugh but, Sherlock, you've had grey hairs for a while now."

Outraged, the taller man reared back. "I can assure you that these two hairs are the first two to make an appearance amongst these curls. I have spent the better part of the last hour searching."

Not allowing the small outburst to distract him, John continued to pat.

"I won't argue that the two grey hairs you might have found on your head are the first two there; however, you have had grey hairs for nearly a year now."

Sherlock's confusion was visible on his face as he tried to think through John's cryptic remark.  
Finally, the good doctor took pity and explained.

"The top of your head is not the only place where hairs reside on your body."

Sherlock looked down at his arms.

"All is as it has been, John."

Fighting a smile, the shorter man ran his hand up a muscular thigh and rested it in a most intimate area.

"There is hair all over your body, Sherlock. Some of it catches my attention a great deal more than others. Especially since I tried that one thing I found online that you really like."

Sherlock's cheeks coloured slightly as he shifted on his seat. John had not removed his hand.

"Oh," he answered. "I had quiet forgotten about that specific area."

John's eyes twinkled. "You have?"

His hand began an up and down motion. "That's a shame."

He smiled as Sherlock groaned as he bucked his hips forward. "I find myself thinking about that specific area at least a half a dozen times a day. In great detail."

John leaned his forehead into the warmth of Sherlock's body as his nose nuzzled what was becoming an impressive tent.

"Still worried about those two silly grey hairs?"

Sherlock panted as he shook his head from side to side.

"Good, now open your trousers and pants and I'll show you just how much I appreciate your grey hairs and the impressive piece of anatomy they surround."

Not one to argue when given such a delicious order from his captain, Sherlock did as he was told. Soon any thoughts of hairs, grey or dark, were driven happily from his mind by more important things.


End file.
